


Hush

by MooseFeels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Begging, Forced Feminization, Implied Mpreg, Leviathan Castiel, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Non Consensual, Piercings, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked to write this in the middle of the night by ashesinyourhair and happyfunballXD.

It was hard to see him up there. Hard to see the thing in Cas's suit.

It seemed to flicker when it smiled, and it liked to smile a lot. Too many teeth stretched out across the face that Castiel used to wear, any idea of serenity shattered like a ceramic plate slid spitefully to the floor.

"Hello, Dean," it rasped in a voice Castiel used to wear.

Dean bucked in the restraints, made of a material he didn't recognize, and felt a low fire build in his belly.

"Please," he said. "This isn't him."

    The thing in Castiel's suit laughed like a submachine rifle.

"Oh, this," and it gestured expressively at the rack Dean was strung upon, the way his clothes were torn, the bright marks of struggle still fresh against his skin, "Oh this is all him. Believe us, this isn't really our...schtick."

It giggled, and the wrongness of it made Dean's teeth itch.

"He liked to poke around inside your head sometimes," it said. "Seems some things you never do leave in Hell after all."

He felt like his blood was boiling, felt it too sharp and too hard and too hot in his body. Felt like he was dying and burning and what was the worst, he just wanted more. God help him, he wanted more.

A clammy hand, damp with a liquid Dean didn't want to think about, slid up his shirt. It's laughter crackled like heat lightening as the frigid fingers found his left nipple and began to tug, tug, tug.

Dean gasped, and if he hadn't already been suspended off of his feet, he would have buckled to his knees.

"Maybe," it said, like a child contemplating what candy to buy, "I'll pierce them. Put...merry little rings in them of bright shiny surgical steel. I bet you'd like that. Way they'd rub up against your shirt all the time. Bet he'd like that too."

"I thought," Dean gasped as a fingernail clawed into that peak of flesh, "I thought he was gone."

Dean wished it would stop laughing.

"Oh no," it cackled. "No, not at all. He's fighting. He's winning, even. We'll be out any day now, and he'll be free."

"Then why," Dean moaned as those fingers twisted. "Why do this? Why not just kill me?"

It leaned in close, and its breath smelled like the things pulled up from the bottom of ponds and lakes.

"Because," it whispered like wind through teeth, "broken presents hurt so much more than the ones you never knew you were missing."

Dean howled when the hand moved away and the blood flushed back into the nipple, suddenly impossibly hot and tight against his chest and under his shirt. The thing in Castiel's suit reached up and tore the offending article of clothing away in one fell swoop, tearing from collar to bottom.

It smiled like it was Christmas Morning as it picked up a needle and a little hoop.

"This is usually so much more satisfying on the females of your species," it rambled. "Their tits, they do bounce around quite a bit." It rolled the nipple in its clammy fingers. "We could always do that, you know. Give you a set, too. They'd lookso sweet under your shirts. Demure little tits just waiting to be...grasped."

It held the needle perpendicular to Dean's pec, scratched the surface of the nipple with the tip of the needle.

"We could do so many things. Make you fertile, even." It plunged the needle through the nipple and Dean cried aloud, hotter and tighter than he knew what to do with. "He thinks about it, sometimes. He wants to be your everything and wants you to be his. It's almost cute."

"You're sick," Dean spat. "You're fucked. You motherfucker, you cocksucker, you asshole, you son of a bitch, you-"

"We're a monster, Dean," it interrupted, gleefully. "Please, use the right words."

The bar went through his skin with the note, "Little hearts. So pretty."

Dean flushed bright pink.

"I think," it said, contemplating the right nipple, "I'll save the other one for later."

"What," Dean hissed, and then it leaned down and some of its many, many, many teeth found his right nipple and began to bite and suck and tease. Dean shouted aloud, crying and whimpering and moaning.

    It pulled away after a few minutes, grinning laciviously. "You sing such lovely songs, Dean," it giggled. "You should write more for us. Your friend, Castiel, he can hear them. He quite likes that one where you beg."

Dean fought for words but could not find them, could only search for air.

"No, no, no," it said, waving it's arms in the air like a demented conductor. "The one where you go please, please, please, more, more, more. Come now, sing along."

It unbuttoned Dean's pants while Dean fought for breath and tugged them down with his boxers. To Dean's surprise, his cock stood erect against his stomach.

It looked at Dean's cock, and then back up at Dean. "Oh, my," it said in a mockery of shock.

 

"Please," Dean gasped, desperately.

"Oh, that's it," it said. "That's the song, that's the one he likes." It reached down to the table and picked up a bottle. It squirted a handful of lube into his palm and spread its fingers in it. "Little louder, though, so he can hear."

It reached down between Dean's buttocks and circled Dean's hole.

The fingers were still freezing cold. The lube was, too.

The fingers circled his asshole a few times before plunging. Dean cried aloud, bright and huge in the cavernous space the thing had taken him to.

"That's it," it said, like Dean's cries were a relief. "He can hear now. Keep up, keep going."

Dean moaned as he loosened around the first finger and it was joined by a second and a third.

"Yes," it said after a long, long time. "Yes, I think that's good now."

It unzipped the pants on Cas's suit, and Dean squirmed and thrashed and tried to pull away, but he couldn't. "You can't he," he panted. "He doesn't- no, please, not like this."

It looked up at Dean and jacked Cas's cock a few times. "Now that song, that's one I like," it chuckled. "Keep singing, I like this."

"Please," Dean cried as it lined up against Dean's hole and slid in slowly. "Please."

And it grinned as it slowly, grindingly, began to fuck him.

Dean kept moaning, kept whimpering, and then began to whine with the feel as it found his prostate and kept hitting it, over and over and over.

"So close," it breathed. "Keep singing, pet, keep singing."

There was a sudden whiteness all around as Dean felt something impossibly wet and warm flood inside of him.

He didn't even realize at first.

"No," the voice said. "No, please."

And Dean looked down.

It was the same face.

It was a different face.

“I didn't," Castiel stuttered. "I didn't-"

Dean tried to lift his hand to run his fingers through Castiel's hair.

"Shh," he whispered. "I know."


End file.
